Page 60 of The Professor
Brian didn’t speak. His lips pressed together, and his bloody nostrils flared.
“Let’s guess,” Cillian said. “The same as you tried with our girl at the house, Bridget. A fuck and then strangled.”
“I didn’t deserve that beating. I’d paid for that fuck. She was a prostitute, a whore.”
“That price didn’t include trying to strangle her.” Cillian shook his head. “And the woman in New Marston last night? She wasn’t so lucky, huh.” His finger was tight on the trigger of his gun. His knuckles had paled, and his jaw was clenched.
Brian laughed. “Oh, you think you’re such a clever fucker, don’t you?”
“Was that you?” Phil asked. “Tell us.”
“What do you think?”
I studied Brian’s face. He wasn’t fazed about three guns pointing his way. He was speaking about rape and murder as though it was all a bit of fun. He’d admitted he’d killed three times, tried twice more, including me. He was a maniac, a serial killer, he was beyond saving, and the world was a worse place for having him breathing in it.
I swallowed, my throat constricting with the memory of his hand around it. Raising the gun, his gun, I aimed it his chest.
Cillian, Phil, and Andrew didn’t appear to notice me. Neither did Brian. I took a step closer, my aim clear. I was no shooter, but right now it didn’t seem much of a challenge to hit my target. He was only a few meters away.
“You killed the woman in New Marston, as well as the two kids?” Andrew said. “Right?”
“Yeah, right.” Brian was erect again and stroking his cock. It was clear this conversation was a turn-on. “I killed her, right wriggler, she was, a bit like this one.” He gestured to me, his attention landing on the gun I had aimed at his chest. “But that wouldn’t have stopped me,” he went on, “I would still have watched her die with my dick deep in her pussy.” He grinned, a sick, twisted grin that steeled my determination. “And enjoyed every fucking second of it.”
I inhaled. Balanced myself. Squeezed the trigger.
The force of the bullet leaving the barrel had me stepping back a pace and dropping my arms. The explosive sound rattled around the alleyway.
An eruption of blood burst from Brian’s chest. His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of shock.
“Fuck, Chelsea.” Andrew grabbed the gun from me. “What the…?”
“He’s a killer, and he was going to kill again…he was going to kill me.” My voice was trembling.
“You…you shot him.”
“It was what he deserved.” I was shaking wildly now. Not out of regret, not a single fiber of me was regretful.
“You…you…bitch.” Brian slunk to the ground. He looked up at Phil. “Get help…get help. The bitch shot me.”
“I don’t think so, asshole.” Phil huffed. “And she just pulled the trigger a few seconds before us, so you’re out of luck on help.”
The blood was coming thick and fast, pooling on the dirty ground. The life was draining from Brian with each second, his skin a pale sickly white and his limbs hanging loosely.
“Come on.” Andrew wrapped his arm around my waist. “We’ve got to get you out of here.” He handed the gun I’d used to Cillian. “Get rid of this, forever.”
“Will do.” Cillian dropped it into the waistband of his jeans along with his own weapon.
“And the CCTV,” Andrew said.
“Yeah, I’m on it. While Phil handles the body, I’ll go back in and square things with Ben’s security system. Don’t worry, she won’t be on it, neither will we.” Cillian squeezed Andrew’s shoulder. “I promise.”
“Good.” Andrew’s grip on me tightened. “She can’t ever have been here.”
“She won’t have been. Go, get back to the house, we’ll meet you there. Hurry.”
Andrew urged me toward the glowing amber streetlight at the end of the alley. He drew out his phone and tapped a message.
I glanced over my shoulder. Cillian had been right. Brian was now a body, slumped and dead and blood-soaked. “He was a monster. That awful man was a monster.”
